Marrying Miss Kringle: Frost Read online

  As sad as I am that I can’t put a face with the name, there is a certain freedom that comes from being anonymous, isn’t there? Sometimes, I sit at the coffee shop in town when I need a break from the office, and I wonder if you’re the woman in yoga pants who orders dairy-free hot chocolate and a gluten-free brownie every Thursday morning. Somehow, I don’t think that’s you. I feel like some part of me would recognize you. But, I have to ask, is that you? Are you that close to me and I don’t know it? The idea that I could lay eyes on you at any minute gets me through each day. You are my hope in the sunrise and my faith when the world goes dark.

  Yes, work is still stressful. It’s nice to know someone cares about how things affect me. Most people around here are worried about themselves. They see me as a statue—a body without feelings—a machine who operates on code instead of emotion. Trust me, I feel all the things they think I’m immune to.

  We aren’t doing well financially. Companies all over the US are going paperless. It’s easier. Less messy. And, they claim, better for the environment. I can’t convince them that we replenish the forest we take down and that paper is still of value. We harvest trees my dad planted before I was born, and we plant more each year. Sales are down 20% from this time last year. As hard as this all is on me, I fear it is much harder on Dad. I’ve let him down, Miss Kringle. I’m a failure in my father’s eyes. I don’t know if you can understand that feeling. Does Santa ever get disappointed?

  I can’t believe the questions I ask you.

  We started this relationship on the premise that you’re Santa’s daughter, and you’ve continued the pretense so beautifully that when I close my eyes, I can picture your home at the North Pole. At times, I think I’m the only person over ten who still addresses their letters to the North Pole mail room. These letters are far outside the reality of my life, and yet, sometimes they’re more real to me than the shoe on my foot. You once told me that you are one of five daughters, that Santa’s daughters are rare. Miss Kringle, you are more prized than one in five. You are a singularity!

  As always, my Christmas wish is to take you to dinner. Say the word and I will clear a landing strip for your magical sleigh. Just one date, Miss Kringle, one chance to offer you my heart in person.

  Until then, your secret identity is safe with me,

  Tannon

  “Whatcha got there?”

  Frost jumped at Robyn’s voice so close to her ear. She stuffed Tannon’s latest missive into the stereo rose purse hanging by the detachable shoulder strap that took her from evening chic to daytime fabulous. Today, the purse was the exact shade of taupe as her heels. “N-nothing.”

  “Nothing sounds an awful lot like something when your voice cracks.” Robyn pulled a small wagon to a stop next to the sleigh. They were taking a smaller sleigh with red velvet cushions to Oregon. The big sleigh was only pulled out for the Christmas Eve ride and practice runs with the top eight reindeer. Although, as Frost considered her rolling clothing rack and Robyn’s overloaded wagon, the larger sleigh may need to be dusted off and brought out of storage. She wasn’t leaving behind one stitch of clothing. Options were a girl’s best friend when meeting the love of her life for the first time.

  Frost tugged on the hem of her Christmas green sheath dress. The matching green-and-white checked coat hung an inch shorter than the dress. Oh, the internal debate about what to wear to meet Tannon! She’d spent hours at the sewing machine, making five new outfits, all of which she’d found reason to pack instead of wear. Tilly, her old nanny elf, had also hummed her way through bolts of fabric. She had thought useful while Frost thought romantical. Tilly supplied flowing pants and blouses, a tennis skirt and top, an evening gown, and a smart riding outfit in case Frost needed to ride off into the sunset on horseback. Tilly was practical-minded that way. After all, what woman doesn’t need a riding ensemble? The dress she’d chosen for today, her last-ditch attempt at the sewing machine, had come out just right, and she felt confident, competent, and beautiful. The power of a well-fitted drapery was third only to Christmas Magic and true love.

  Blitz stomped his hoof impatiently. Robyn passed him a carrot, the green tops leafy and fragrant. As most reindeer were, Blitz was thrown off his train of thought by the treat. Dangling a carrot in front of them was the equivalent of yelling “squirrel” at a dog.

  Stella insisted on driving them to Elderberry. Their self-appointed Single Kringle Committee Chairwoman had assigned herself two jobs for the trip: find them a place to stay, and arrange transportation.

  If Frost had been thinking a little more clearly when assignments were handed out—and not thinking about Tannon’s letter waiting for her in the mail sack—then she would have volunteered to drive. Stella and Blitz were a scary-fast combination; both liked to take risks. Frost wasn’t opposed to risk-taking. Hadn’t she paired a Catholic schoolgirl skirt with striped leggings and a flowered shirt? Okay, so maybe she hadn’t left the mail room that day. Maybe she wasn’t a huge risk-taker. And maybe that’s why it had taken her so long to find the courage to meet Tannon.

  She still hadn’t come clean to any of her sisters. Telling them about her secret pen pal was a risk that wasn’t worth taking. There were rules, both spoken and unspoken, and one of them was not answering Santa’s letters. Ginger, her sister who’d taken on the Santa role, had told Joseph who she was before she married him. And Lux, her Avenger-loving nerdy sister, had spilled the jelly beans about who she really was and where they were going to live to Quik … and then married him. While she may want to marry Tannon, nuptials weren’t a done deal so she felt safer keeping certain details to herself.

  “It’s just a letter.” She stored her bag on the velvet seat and began the preflight check of Blitz’s harness. Selora, the head elf of the stables, had brought him out of his stall. She didn’t trust anyone else with the spirited and mischievous animal, and Frost didn’t blame her. Blitz stomped his hooves and her threw his antlers around like a big shot.

  Frost tugged at the cinch with a grunt. She wouldn’t put it past him to bloat out when he was hooked up so he could relax and have enough room in the harness to take the sleigh into an unexpected roll. “Don’t forget my mail bag. I’m going to have to keep up on things while we’re away.”

  Robyn continued transferring bags of groceries and ingredients into the sleigh. Accessible from the back, the empty space under the seat was, for lack of a better word, a trunk. She tugged the half-full mail bag off the ground and pushed it into the back corner. “You work too hard.”

  “Like you’re one to talk.” Frost smiled to let her sister know she was teasing. “You’re bringing your work with you too.” She lifted a bag full of canned goods and shook it to emphasize her point.

  “Baking isn’t work.” Robyn swiped her arm across her forehead. “Well, except for carrying heavy ingredients around.”

  “Yeah, and I got these muscles reading.” Frost flexed and made Robyn laugh. They spent time ice climbing each week, a pastime their mother had brought them up to enjoy.

  “Did you have a chance to order us winter wear?” Robyn retrieved her magical Kringle bag, a brown leather tote with an outside zipper pocket and two large leather tassels for decoration. She pulled out her recipe box and then put it back in as if she was worried she’d left it behind. Like she needed the box anymore. Her brain was a recipe search engine.

  A small trill skittered across Frost’s shoulders and she hugged herself in excitement. “I did! They should be there within an hour of landing. I got overnight shipping for free.”

  “Good. We don’t want to stand out.”

  Frost nodded. A Kringle’s body temperature remained constant no matter what the weather. This was good for living at the North Pole, but not so good for blending in with the general populace. They had to remind one another to wear coats when it stormed, or T-shirts and shorts in the sun. Frost had the hardest time. Her fancy dresses didn’t work well with ski coats. She’d found several wool skirts online for her s
isters that had her clicking away. They would also get parkas, dress coats, ski pants, and lined leggings. Probably more than they would wear while they were there. But then again … options!

  Her fingers tingled with anticipation of opening all those boxes. Online shopping was so much more fun that going to a store, because the goods arrived by mail. She wanted to giggle just thinking of the items being packaged, labeled, and passed from truck to truck to get to Oregon.

  Stella arrived carrying her black leather and silver-zippered Kringle bag over one shoulder and her laptop case over the other. She tugged Blitz’s ear as she passed, getting a friendly nip at her side for her efforts. Neither of them was being mean; that was just the way they showed their affection.

  “I was followed.” Stella’s red lips twisted in a sour expression and her boots stomped in displeasure. Behind her walked Mom and Dad. Mom had on a candy-cane striped apron. She’d be covering for Robyn in the kitchens while they were away. Her cinnamon-brown hair was pulled up into a high bun with wisps of hair framing her face in the front. She wore mom jeans, which thankfully were coming back into style.

  The high waists were Frost’s teenaged nightmare. When she’d begged her mom to try low-rise jeans, she was told that Mom knew her stomach had been stretched out by five pregnancies and she didn’t need the muffin top to remind her. High-rise jeans made that muffin top look like a pancake. Frost had ordered several new pairs the minute they hit stores, and though she still wasn’t a huge fan, she was beginning to see the fun side of lengthening the look of her legs—especially since she was the shortest Kringle at the North Pole.

  Dad wore khaki pants and a red flannel shirt. His white beard was recently trimmed and his cheeks were rosy red.

  “What’s up with you?” Robyn asked Stella.

  “I’m what’s up with her,” Mom answered before Stella could. “I gave her a couple dating rules for this girls’ trip you’re all taking.”

  Stella admired her black fingernails. “I prefer the term man hunt to girls’ trip.”

  Frost and Robyn groaned in unison. Being called the Single Kringles was bad enough. Painting them as desperate women hunting up a husband only rubbed cinnamon oil into the wound. “Please don’t,” Robyn warned.

  Stella rolled her eyes.

  Frost turned to her parents. Stella would get over her pout. “What rules?” Since she’d already broken one of Santa’s biggest rules by writing Tannon a couple times a week, she made up for it by sticking to every other rule like double-sided sticky tape.

  Dad put his hand on Mom’s lower back in a sign of support. His gaze ran over his daughters. When it landed on Frost, she only let their eyes meet for a brief moment, afraid he’d see inside her soul, find her secret, and put her on the Naughty List posthaste. She angled her body to hide her bag where Tannon’s letter waited for her. Dad didn’t have X-ray vision, but he was connected to Christmas Magic, and that was unpredictable at best.

  Tannon’s words “just one date” raced through her head and made her blood pound. He didn’t know it, but his Christmas wish, the same wish he’d had since that first Christmas, was about to come true. Of course, as a ten-year-old he hadn’t wished for a date; he had wished to meet her. It wasn’t until he turned twenty that his letters turned sweet, bumbling though they were at times. He didn’t bumble through invitations anymore. He’d grown quite eloquent and convincing as of late, making her heart race at the sight of his golden envelopes.

  “Rule number one.” Mom held up one finger. “No more guys with reptile, car part, or Naughty List names.”

  Frost covered her mouth with her hands to hold back her snicker. In the past two years, Stella had dated a Snake, a Gecko, a Dragon, a Python, and a Skink. And then there was Axle, Ford, and Diesel. Frost had had to look up Skink to prove it was a reptile. It was.

  “She has a point.” Robyn closed the trunk and brushed her hands together. It was full, and they still needed to fit Frost’s wardrobe. Maybe they could just take the whole rolling clothes rack …

  Robyn continued, “It’s not working, so you should try another route. Maybe guys named after birds or something.”

  Stella grunted and folded her arms.

  “Rule number two: No kissing on the first date.”

  A strangled gurgle came from Stella’s direction. Everyone ignored her.

  “Rule number three: Dad has to like him.”

  “Might as well date a priest,” protested Stella.

  “Sorry, sis. Priests don’t date.” Ginger grinned as she headed for Stella. She’d come to see them off and had just walked through the door. Wearing a red sweater with a white reindeer silhouette on the front and black leggings, she looked comfortable and yet cute. Her brown, wavy hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. When she got to her sister, she hooked her elbow around Stella’s neck and gave her a cherry-red kiss on the cheek as a hello and a goodbye.

  Stella shoved her away and swiped at her cheek, but she did it with a smile.

  Frost envied their closeness. She’d kept Ginger at the same arm’s length that she kept Dad at, because Ginger had inherited Dad’s Naughty/Nice List radar. Even as kids, Ginger was the one who would work to keep them on the nice side of the list. Perhaps that’s why she and Stella were so close: Stella needed Nice List tutoring.

  Layla, Ginger’s step-niece, and Joseph, Ginger’s husband, joined them. Joseph reached for Ginger’s hand and brought it to his lips. Two Christmases of marriage while raising Joseph’s niece and they still acted like newlyweds. They also made a great Christmas team, delivering gifts to children all over the world in one night.

  Frost turned away, the ache inside for that kind of acceptance—no, for the adoration Ginger and Joseph shared—was too much to watch when she didn’t have a man in her life. She wanted that man to be Tannon—wanted it so badly that she was scared down to her green-and-white-striped toenails.

  Frost pulled her snowy white braid over her shoulder and tugged on a few strands to loosen it. The fear of being let down by Tannon was barely outdistanced by faith. She and Tannon had written back and forth for 16 years. She knew him and he knew her. She believed that enough to put their professions of deeper feelings than friendship to the test.

  “Don’t you think, Frost?” Lux’s question startled her out of her thoughts. When had Lux and Quik joined the impromptu farewell party? She’d been so lost in her thoughts of Tannon that she hadn’t noticed their arrival.

  “I … uh …”

  “She spaced out again.” Robyn patted her arm.

  Frost glanced quickly around the growing circle, certain the word Guilty was tinsel-tattooed across her forehead. Christmas Magic had branded Ginger with a silver snowflake tattoo on the inside of her wrist, and Frost wouldn’t put it past the unpredictable force to oust her secret in such a way.

  Robyn took pity on her and said, “Lux was just saying we should stop in at the post office first. She thinks a mail carrier would be a good match for you.”

  “And,” added Quik, “post offices in small towns are great places to uncover secrets.”

  “What?” Frost honked, rubbing an itch just above her eyebrow.

  Quik’s brown eyes brightened. “Just think of how much classified information you have stored in that mail room.” As a former military man, he was always thinking strategically. And he noticed too much, paying attention when most people would let Frost disappear into the background—well, as much as she could. She kind of stood out without having to try.

  Like a crack in the ice that hinted at danger, an unfamiliar heat built inside Frost’s chest. She pointed a finger at the word “Army” on Quik’s shirt. “You stay out of my mail room.” Her voice had a seldom-heard edge to it, a warning.

  Quik held up both hands. “O-kay.” He glanced at Lux for help. She lifted her shoulders, as surprised by Frost’s tone as Quik. Frost was the perpetually happy one. She went along with things. She did not give out dire warnings. The one time she’d become frantic was l
ast Christmas, when Lux and Quik were building a substation to convert Christmas Magic into power for the production facility, the ovens, and pretty much the whole palace. They were running late and the mail hadn’t come through because the Magic withered as the two of them denied their feelings for one another. It wasn’t until they finally gave in and kissed that the Magic righted.

  Stella slid a pair of sunglasses on her head. “As fun as it is to stand around the stables and chitchat, we need to be on our way. There’s a man out there—” She glared at Mom. “—with a boring name, just waiting for me.”

  Lux surged forward and wrapped Frost in a hug. “Stocking stuffers, it’s going to be so quiet around here without you three.”

  Frost returned her hug, laughing lightly. “Think of it as the calm before the storm.”

  Lux nodded. “You’re right. Oliver will be here for Thanksgiving and Christmas break. We’ll be worn out before New Years.” Lux’s stepson spent most of the year with his mother in California. He’d started school this year, and she’d wanted him in a normal educational environment. She made a strong argument about having friends. Since the only other child at the North Pole was Layla, Ginger’s niece, who had grown up in Alaska and was used to being with adults and not children, they agreed to not make a fuss about his departure. They did bargain for school breaks with the six-year-old. Bargained and won, since Amy, Quik’s ex, preferred holiday parties and late nights to bedtime stories.

  Frost crinkled her nose. “Make sure he writes Santa. Just cuz he’s your stepson doesn’t mean he can ice-skate by on traditions.”